Teenage Non-Mutant Ninja Human
by FireRoseFanfiction
Summary: Nameless, sightless, but not helpless. Who is this girl in the sewers being chased by Foot? They've got questions, but do they really want the answers of her mysterious past?
1. Sewer Maze

**(A/N): Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? I think so. The voices have no limits.**

The fourteen year-old doesn't have to see her pursuers to know that they're there. She can literally feel them behind her with each quick barefoot step she takes on the sewer's sidewalk. This isn't the first time she's run away, but she intends to make it her last. Because she's _learned_.

Her father could say her attempts were pathetic failures, but her blind eyes saw them as victories. Her crafty mind, as sharp as the miniscule wires stowed away in her fingerless gloves, has the whole underground system memorized.

_Try and catch me now_. Flicking her wrists, wires shoot out from her invention and latch onto the walls behind her. Two silent footsteps are stopped instantly, bringing a smile to her exhausted face. Only eight more to go.

She keeps running, not caring how much it's beginning to hurt. The blessing curse of her harsh, every second of every day, training. And she had had enough.

And then she hears the voices.

Not deep like her father's, but much younger. _Teenage_. But most importantly, they were going after her enemies.

And yet, she still wasn't so sure of this supposed boost in luck.

Behind her, having come out of some secret tunnel, one of the four shouts what to do. Three to finish her job of getting rid of them, and one to go after her.

And so she moves even faster. Bandages that cover her previous wounds are put to work yet again as she can literally feel each cut reopen and bruise form. She skids to the right, hoping that she's correct on where she must be, where the exit _has_ to be. Wires whip and attach as she attempts to shake off the fourth voice. He's the only one after her, the three having stopped to take out the chasers.  
"S-Stop! Please." But she has no intentions to. "You're hurt. I only want to help you."  
"Then back off!" She finds herself yelling, wanting him to do such. She doesn't care how hurt she is, doesn't care if they share her dislike in enemies, doesn't care if he sounds so concerned for her well-being.  
But she does care for stupid gravity that causes her to fall over. _Hard_. Her knees scream in pain, and she mentally curses out to each stinging throb as she tries to get back on her feet and away.  
But her legs refuse to hold her up anymore. She crawls back, facing the direction of the even more concerned voice. The sign of a dead-end touches her back, and she curses again.

_Better the ground than that. _

"You're bleeding. Here, I'll-"

"I said to back off!" A web of wires are her last defence, but the stupid voice comes closer.

And he isn't _human_.

She can feel his vibrations against the wiring, deformed feet touching the ground while still trying to get to her. Every invisible sign that the teen isn't a human being, meaning that he must be one of _them_. One of the people, rather _things_, she had been trained to destroy.

But here he is, getting sliced by her weapon trying to help her. Maybe he is the exit.

Then she recalls nothing else, just scaly arms holding her, carrying her like a sleepy child. Giving her a foreign sense that must mean _safety_.

_Huh. Won't say I don't like it, but I...I..._

_I __**do.**_


	2. Waking Up

**(A/N): Don, you adorable little geek, you.**

Distorted voices ebb into her consciousness, one being the teen from before, and the other an elderly man's. The second she feels control over her body, she sits up, or attempts to. A sharp jolt of pain shoots up her spine and she is gently forced to lay back down.

"Easy, my child. Your wounds have not yet healed." The old man speaks calmly, though judging from his touch, he isn't human either.

_Their Master. Splinter, Father called him._

"Where am I?" She asks, catching droplets hit the floor as an assumption of width. A large area, high ceiling, multiple sections in one.

"Our Lair. You were being chased by the Foot, and they really hurt you, Miss." The teen sounds uneasy, but relieved at her awakening. She can tell he notices her eyes seeing nothing ahead without the gift of sight.

"I'm blind." _And definitely not a 'Miss'._

"Oh. I'm sorry-"

"For what?" _Won't be from 'Miss'. _

While he mumbles an answer, she does a mental check. _Toes move, legs stiff with bandages but good enough, chest burning, arms sore, fingers-__**Hey!**_ _Where are my wires?!_

"Where are they?" She attempts yet again to at least sit up.

"Leo, Raph, and Mikey are still out. My bro-Oh, my name is Donatello." The girl wishes she could move better so she could hit him. She already knows their names, which Donatello hastily covers.

"We stowed your weapons as to assist with the healing." Master Splinter answers her true question, though it makes her feel less healed. They might as well have taken away her ears and feet.

"They're really something, too. I was looking over the mechanics and design and-" Donatello's sudden excitement is short-lived as she picks up the sound of three entering the Lair. And a very foreign smell.


	3. Pizza

**(A/N): I feel like I accidentally killed those of you who waited all this time for an update. I'm sorry. Have some pizza?**

"Just a kid?" A rough teen's voice scoffs, and she instantly decides that she doesn't like him. Which, remembering her job, is perfectly okay with her.

Though the smell, she is more than okay with.

"You gotta be hungry. Want a bite?" A goofy one with the source of the smell in front of her. It makes her mouth water and stomach growl, the first being odd.

"How about using manners? I'm Leonardo. You must be tired-"

"And hungry-"

"Little _girl_-"

"Guys, she can't-"

"Perhaps in order, my sons. I apologize, my dear, for that. I am Master Splinter." They quit talking immediately. "Perhaps you could tell us what you are called?"

"I don't have one." Another thing she doesn't have, but can live without. Has lived without. She's been given titles, though the nicest one was 'daughter' when her father was pleased with her skill. Only once, then silence as he watched her spar and scold the slightest misstep.

"Dude, how can you-" The goofy one is quieted by the sound of an elbow jamming into his side and a 'Shut up, Mikey.'

"As Michelangelo said earlier, you must be hungry after such events. Do eat." Master Splinter insists, not returning to the previous subjects like she can sense the others dying to. Well, at least the goofy one. "I trust that my sons can look after you, dear child."

_I'm not a child._ She wants to correct, but keeps her mouth shut to the kind Master. It doesn't bother her, the way he says it with genuine sincerity. Unlike the jerk voice.

"Where are you going, Master?" The voice of Leonardo asks while Michelangelo begins munching on the food.

"To mediate. A calm mind is a thoughtful mind." She hears the light footsteps of their Master leave for his quarters, then the awkward silence of her...watchers mentally debating of what to do with their charge.

"What are we supposed to do with a girl?" It's the rough voice again, and she can feel her blood boil.

"Shut up." She points a finger in his direction. "I'll take you on."

"Oh, really? I'd like to see you-"

"Raph, knock it off." Leonardo intervenes, earning what sounds like a scoff from Raph.

"Heal up and we'll settle this." He mutters, storming off to where his room must be.

"Don't cry when you lose." She adds with a final sting and can hear him punch something hard with a sharp laugh.

"So, hungry, yeah?" Michelangelo takes the tense moment of silence to once again offer the foreign food to her. Her stomach betrays her with a growl, signaling that it wants whatever _it _is.

"Fine." She'll have it. The sooner she gets better, the sooner she'll gloriously kick Raph's butt. Having enough sense to snatch the oddly greasy and somewhat soggy triangular shaped food, she knows she's being witnessed by them as she takes her first bite out of it. The combination of new tastes invade her mouth, and she can't decide if it's good, or making her want to puke."The heck is this?"

"Pizza. Food of the Gods." Michelangelo explains with a bit of praise for said 'Gods' in his voice.

_Pizza? _If this was some sort of appeasing food treaty, she'd settle for it for now and takes another bite.


End file.
